Elsie Prod (puredeadbrill) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2008-12-27 14:28:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! [1979-12] december, damocles belby, elsie prod (née belby) |
Who: Elsie Prod & Damocles Belby
When: 27 December, 1979
Where:Damocles' flat
What: Elsie tries to argue, they talk about Christmas, the Order, and babies.
Rating: PG for minor language
Status: Completed.
It was a quiet afternoon, and Damocles was spending it in a quiet manner: in his pyjamas, sitting down on his favourite couch in the living room, his yellow highlighter in his mouth and his hands holding up a book on medicinal Potions. He had a lot of errands to run that day -- his food was running out, there was something wrong with the front door, and he really should start cleaning up his bedroom, but he wasn't in the mood. He should also get some lunch soon, and finish drinking his cup of coffee, which was still half-full (or half-empty, it's up to everyone's preference). As usual, though, his attempt to fully concentrate on his studies was short lived, as his eyes glazed over the text of the book. Maybe he should consider doing something else besides reading. But he was too comfortable, and he didn't want to get up from where he was sitting. Elsie only saw emerald green flames as she flew through the Floo, and once she stepped out into her younger brother's living room, she was seeing only red. "The NERVE of 'im!" she shouted, kicking over Damocles' fireplace tool set. The brush slid across the floor and the shovel fell with a clang, but Elsie didn't notice. "The bletherin' skite seems to think I'mma some sorta Mrs. McClarty because I 'aven't got the Christmas shopping done yet fer 'is parents, the right carnaptious old devil. Cannae he go do any of it, when it's for 'is damn family, byraway, an' I've been working overtime this whole last month! Noooo. Am I right or am I wrong?" She gave the shovel one last kick as she took off her heavy coat and scarf, throwing it on the chair and plopping down on the sofa, right on top of her brother's feet. "Cannae ya move it?" And that was the end of his supposedly quiet afternoon. The moment she stepped out of the Floo and started yelling and kicking his fireplace tool set, Damocles let out a small sigh and shut his book. Another argument, he supposed. "I'm moving, I'm moving," he drawled out lazily, taking his time to pick up some other books he had placed next to him and placing them on the coffee table before plopping himself down on another couch. "You argued about shopping for Christmas presents?" He leaned back against the couch; it wasn't as comfortable has his favourite, but he didn't mind letting Elsie take it. If it would prevent her from kicking the innocent items in his home, then he was ready to surrender. "Why not make a list, hm?" It seemed like a rational thing to do. "And divide the shopping, since you've been busy?" Damocles raised his eyebrows at his sister questioningly. "Course not," she snapped, "'cause that'd be the sensible thing t'do." She kicked off her shoes, arms still crossed, and looked over at her brother. While she wouldn't be able to admit it until she was at last halfway calmed down, she was incredibly thankful for her brother. In a lot of ways she was more similar to Egnorwiddle - stubbornness, the thickness of their accents (which, in Elsie's case, always intensified when she was angry), and their proneness to being irrational - but it was Damocles she was closer to. And so he'd be the first one she'd complain to. "An' I 'aven't baked no biscuits yet or the Dundee cakes, an' we're celebratin' with Dem's kin tomorrow now an' he's going to want Yule bannocks an' o'course 'e won't help out at all, the bog-stalker. But 'e cannae do any of it because he's right helpless. The puddock." She leaned her head back against the sofa and let her arms fall down at her side. "An' I'm still right mad at Dorothy 'bout what she said 'bout the candles I got her. I never 'ave the foggiest what to get Dorothy, an' you saw 'ow I likely spent more than I should've on Marcus." At the mention of their nephew's name, Damocles' eyebrows raised. "You shouldn't have spent too much on him." And it was true, too. Marcus, no matter how young he was, was a brat. All right, so maybe Damocles could try bonding more with him but there was something about the kid that was just... annoying. "Maybe you should have gotten her a new jumper. She's been wearing the same one for the past two Christmases. Or maybe that's some sort of odd tradition they have." He stood up and started to make his way to the kitchen to pour a cup of tea for himself and his sister. Walking back into the living room, he placed the cups on the table. "You know I can help you with the cooking," he said, shrugging a bit. "I'm not an expert, yeah, but you've got to admit they're still qualified as bribing items." Damocles was just going to pretend that he didn't have anything else to do that day. Elsie let out a large, exaggerated sigh. "Suppose." She picked up the cup of tea, took a sip and closed her eyes, relaxing slightly. "All right," she said finally, much calmer than when she had come in. "If y'can maybe come over in the morn to help, that'd be pure dead brilliant." And as for the presents, well, she'd figure them out, though she'd have to get them all done tonight. "Jumper's not a bad idea - 'er birthday's comin' up anyway," she mused, "an' maybe one for Marcus to match, though again I've still already got 'im too much, the little bugger, but I cannae 'elp it. 'E's my godson after all." She took another sip before setting the cup back down on the table. "What's your thoughts on all this rubbish goin' on in the Order, anyway," she asked, changing the subject. He made a face. Marcus was a little bugger, and Damocles had to spend Christmas day 'entertaining' him, which, really, resulted him into just being annoyed. The biting little brat. Maybe it was just because he couldn't get along with Egnorwiddle, and that was why he couldn't get along with Marcus either. Despite all of this, Damo did have a certain feeling of fondness over his odd nephew, and muttered, "well I hope he liked his box of mint Chocolate Frogs," before turning his attention to Elsie's next question. He shifted in his seat, looking a bit uncomfortable. "The Octavius Pepper issue?" he asked, remembering the vote they had to take at Alice's journal. His eyebrows furrowed, and he leaned against his seat. "I think it would be risky if Professor Dumbledore takes the spell off him." Damocles rubbed his eyes. "For all of us, especially those who are unsuspected, like you and me." He didn't agree with everyone losing their tempers over it the other day, but that didn't mean that he wasn't bothered by the fact that Octavius had outed some of the members. "Just cannae believe some folk think we should," she huffed. "Mean, o'course I dinnae really like the whole ruddy thing an' how it 'appened - oh an did I tell you Dumbledore nearly right told me to shut it? - but Mary got Obliterated for what she did an' this was real similar. But we can't ruddy undo that shite just to pacify the Minister." She gave another exaggerated sigh and rolled her eyes. "Don' wanna go on 'bout this all day 'cause I certainly could but in th' end, I'm not supportin' anything that could reveal our identities since aside from safety an' all, s'an advatage for the Order an' folks shouldn't forget that - s'important. An' I'll tell you one thing - we're sure gonna have some big issue with the Minister, I predict." She finished off her cup of tea. "Sure feel bad for Tibby too." Damocles had a feeling that Elsie could go on about it all day, and while he had his own opinions about it, he knew that all was already said and done when Octavius revealed some of the Order members to the Minister. "I don't think the Minister likes us one bit," he said good-humouredly; this didn't even needed to be said in the first place; everyone knew of this little fact. "But let's hope that it won't end up too badly for us. Least we can do is cover up the damage done and keep people out of trouble." Damocles wasn't looking forward to that seemingly inevitable day they would be discovered, but for now he was going to remain optimistic, or force himself to be optimistic about it, at least. "Let's talk about something happier," he resumed, sighing a little bit. "When am I going to have a nephew or niece from you, eh?" Happier? No, that was certainly not happier. Elsie glared at Damocles. "You are an arsewipe," she replied. First he just had to be reasonable Damocles and make it impossible for her to keep on ranting (her biggest pet peeve with him, probably) and then he goes to ask about her having children. Elsie wanted children, she definitely did, but she wanted them on her own time and not when everyone else was expecting them. She claimed she wouldn't have them until she and Demetrius agreed on a name (which was partially true), but she didn't want to feel like she was starting a family 'by popular demand' and now with the war going on, she wanted to wait a bit. The world wasn't safe enough for her to have a family yet, and especially with her being in the Order... yeah no. "WELL look at th' time," she said, getting up off the sofa. "I'd better go." "Am not," Damocles responded smartly, a big, knowing grin on his lips as Elsie got off the sofa. "But I'll tell you now that you should name him-- if it's a him -- after me, or you know," he cleared his throat, restraining himself from laughing. He had no intention to pressure her, of course; it was only his way of joking around with her, even though he sort of knew that she didn't like it when he did. He actually thought that Elsie would be a good mother, no matter how argumentative she could get sometimes. If she and Demetrius got along better, their kid would definitely be happy. Elsie glared at her brother as she put on her scarf and picked up her coat. "Won't 'appen if you keep buggin' me," she said as she slid one arm into the heavy coat. She pursed her lips as she put the other arm through - while she didn't really need to leave and was only making an Elsie-esque scene, it was probably time to get to the store before it closed anyway. "I'm off, then," she said as she threw the floo powder into the fireplace. The moment it hit the fire and the flames turned green, she had an idea. "Though... Egnorwiddle's not tha' bad of a name..." She grinned before stating her destination and disappeared in a flash of green flames. |